


Θεά της απελπισίας

by SigynNightmare



Series: Απελπισία [1]
Category: Alexander (2004), Troy (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Devana is Eris´ daughter and goddess of despair., M/M, Old Gods, Original Character(s), She loved Achilles like a son even when he was Thetis, She loved Patroclus like a son even when the boy was mortal, She loves Alexander and Hephaistion as much as she did with Achilles and Patroclus, She´s not very popular, So before Troy no many knew her name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:55:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigynNightmare/pseuds/SigynNightmare
Summary: Homero refers to Her in hushed tones. Never saying her name. Describing only her appearance and her sorrow.Odysseus, on the other hand, always called her by her name “Devana”. And had be the first one to whisper that, maybe, after all, Patroclus was a demigod in the same way Achilles had been and that she was his mother. He always remembered her with reverence and so, her name passes to be one that was always mentioned if you spoke of the Achilles and Patroclus.They´re no temples on her name.But then, she doesn’t need or want them.





	Θεά της απελπισίας

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly an indulgent story, please don´t take it too seriusly. 
> 
> This will be a serie of drabbles.

Homero refers to Her in hushed tones. Never saying her name. Describing only her appearance (A woman of long black hair and eyes of the colour of ink, with pomegranate painted lips and white robes. No jewellery, no weapons. But still looking divine and magnificent.) And her sorrow (Terrible. Devastating. All consuming.)

Only to have a point if comparison between Achilles own grief at Patroclusʼ death to what the goddess show the moment Hector cut Patroclus’ neck.

Only a few lines about her presence on the battlefield in a story of great heroes and powerful gods.

Odysseus, on the other hand, always called her by her name “Devana” when he spoke of what happened that day. And insisted that after seeing her in the battlefield –holding a dying Patroclus with tears running free on her cheeks, breaking the aftermath of the battle, and having her presence at their side on the way back at the camp, he had realised that he had seen her before.

Glimpses, which he had thought were just one of the many tricks Apollo had, in all the long years he had known Achilles. Scattered and ephemeral. But still there.

She had always been with them; Achilles and Patroclus. He knew this to be true in the way she spoke to Achilles when she give him the ill-fated news; familiar. Confident. Kind. Even within the sorrow she was obviously feeling.

In how Achilles posted himself at her feet, pleading, sobbing. In how she allowed him to shed his tears on her robes, mixing them with the dry blood of the mortal they had both obviously hold dear in their hearths.

In how she accompanied him dressed all black to confront Hector and turned it´s body to dust so he could never had the appropriate mourning rites; so his soul would never cross the Aqueronte.

Only to kiss Achilles in farewell and vanish in the air as if she was smoke. 

Odysseus was the first one in whisper that, maybe, after all, Patroclus was a demigod in the same way Achilles had been; One destined to die at Hector hand. It would explain, he said, the way the boy had in the arts of healing and how no one could tell he wasn’t Achilles until it was too late. And that she was his mother.

This would stay in the mind of many generations to come. And so, her name would be always mentioned for the great masters that spoke of Achilles and Patroclus to their students. In irony, because Gods just love the irony of human desires, her name would become a recurrent thing on the lips of the youth that wished to be a love similar to the one the great heroes had. 

They´re no temples on her name. But then, she doesn’t need or want them.

Her name is chanted when cities burn. When tragedy hits and only sorrow is left. When love turns into a bittersweet thing that only bring pain and desolation. 

Her name is chanted under the moon, from the lips of a lover to another. In a promise. In a clamour that would never been silenced. But also, in the lips of heroes that whished for glory and to be remember by history as she has become a patron of the lost causes.


End file.
